


In a Mirror, Darkly

by snowpuppies



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Buffy Wishverse, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Cordelia made a wish that changed the world doesn't mean that Tara's life is any different. Wishverse AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Mirror, Darkly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snogged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snogged/gifts).



> A/N: an extremely late fic for [personal profile] snogged as a part of the [livejournal.com profile] femslash_minis Wishverse Round 84. Sorry it's so late, hon! I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Beta'd by the stupendiferous Gabrielle

  
  
  


**In a Mirror, Darkly**

  
  
  


> She pulls the dorm room door shut, sliding the locks into place and hooking the reinforced chain over the latch. Tossing her books on the desk, she crosses to the window, checking that the bars are in place and secure.
> 
> She flops onto the bed, gaze drawn to the randomly stained ceiling—there's a spot that resembles Norway over the desk—as she sighs.
> 
> She's not sure what she's gotten herself into, coming to Sunnydale for college, but even with the scary security measures and strict sundown curfew…
> 
> …it's the lesser of two evils.

  
  
  
When she opens the door, her breath catches in her chest; she's there, more perfect than Tara could have ever imagined—a tragic heroine, a goddess, the girl she's been waiting for—lust and hope and need filling her eyes, echoing everything she's feeling.  
  
"Come in." She doesn't hesitate.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _ **Finally.**  
  
She sighs, flipping the cover of her three-hundred-dollar— **yes-three-hundred-dollars** —used Biology text closed.  
  
Gathering her notes, she stuffs them in her binder and packs her bag. She's spent three and a half hours with her nose buried in a book, but now she's done, and has the whole weekend ahead of her, free and clear.  
  
Not that she has anything to do other than reorganize her spell chest, **again** , but like her momma always told her, the more familiar she is with her ingredients, amulets and talismans, the more naturally her spells will flow, and since she's no great witch, every little advantage helps.  
  
She leaves the extra books on the table, as requested by the contrary library staff, and exits the building. She crosses the quad, smiling as the setting evening sun's rays warm her face, watching as a group of student athletes take the opportunity to play Frisbee in the cool grass.  
  
She squashes the twinge of jealousy when she hears laughter; she hates Frisbee anyway.  
  
A thick line of trees divide the common area from the network of sidewalks leading to the student housing units; she's three steps from being swallowed up by the foliage when she hears a voice she wishes she could forget._  
  
  
***  
  
  
"Tara." Her name sounds like honey and apple, soft lavender breezes and spring rain; at least it does when Willow says it.  
  
Her goddess enters the room, pushing the door until it shuts with a soft click.  
  
Her breath freezes in her chest as wide, green eyes catch her gaze.  
  
"Are you sure?" For a moment, she's not certain who asked the question—she knows she has reason enough to doubt why such a beautiful creature would be with her, but she's fairly sure she didn't speak.  
  
Thin, dark brows rise as a smirk stretches across Willow's face.  
  
"Cat got your tongue?"  
  
"Yes." She starts, body automatically moving forward. "I mean, no. I mean...can you repeat the question?"  
  
"Look," Willow cocks her head in that way that can only be called endearing, "we don't have to do—"  
  
"No. I mean, yes. I want this." It's only been a month since they met, but Tara knows what she's feeling.  
  
Willow's grin could light up the galaxy.  
  
"Great."  
  
Their fingers link, palms connecting. Magic fills her senses, the world spins.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _"Tara."  
  
She keeps walking, sure it's a figment of her imagination.  
  
"Tara, stop."  
  
She doesn't speak. Won't speak. If she speaks it's real, he's real, **they're** real, and they're not because she's left all of them behind and she just has to get to the dorm and—  
  
"Tara!"  
  
She's brought short by a heavy hand falling on her shoulder.  
  
"W-wha—what do you want?" She doesn't turn around. Doesn't.  
  
"Tara,"—his placating tone grates along her spine—"it's time to come home."  
  
She turns around and sees him, sees her father, for the first time in over a year. Donny and Beth aren't far behind.  
  
"I-I-I am home."  
  
"Don't be silly."  
  
She wants to punch him in that smug face, but her fists won't obey.  
  
"I'm n-not going back, n-not ever."  
  
"Do you think that's wise?" Donny steps forward, brotherly concern to the fore.  
  
It's a load of crap, but she'll never say it to his face. She has enough trouble getting the easy words out.  
  
"Tara, you're going to hurt someone, and you know it."  
  
"N-no. I can handle it."  
  
"Like Mom handled it?"  
  
The very mention of her mother sucks the breath from her chest. She can't, won't go back there, not ever, not after what they did.  
  
"Don't talk about her."  
  
"That's enough, you two," her father's voice of reason chimes in, "we're going home, and that's final."  
  
She's prepared to argue, or run, or maybe just scream really loud, but as she draws a breath to take action, she notices how quiet things are.  
  
And then a new voice joins the conversation._  
  
  
***  
  
  
She doesn't know who makes the first move, she just knows that within moments, she's drowning in Willow kisses—soft and moist and slick and just a little cool—and she never wants to come up for air again if it means leaving Willow's lips behind.  
  
Small, delicate hands cup her cheeks, her neck, sending skitters of excitement down her spine. They churn in her belly, slipping down to ignite between her legs.  
  
Her fingers find the laces of Willow's vest, tugging at the strands until it loosens and she slips her hands underneath, stroking satiny skin with reverence and longing.  
  
She closes her eyes as a wet mouth attacks her neck.  
  
She still can't believe it's real.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _"Hey, morons, 'no' means 'no,' or haven't you heard?"  
  
"Excuse me young lady, but I don't believe this is any of your business."  
  
Tara blinks as the stranger—the pale, beautiful stranger—squares off to do battle with her father.  
  
"Well, see, that's where you're wrong, snack cake." The stranger, no, the girl—she's nothing more than a girl—Tara amends, stalks forward, hands on the hips of her—leather?—pants. "It just so happens that this is my territory."  
  
"Yours? What are you, some sort of gang member?"  
  
"Of sorts." The girl smirks.  
  
Tara watches as her father takes a step back; she's never seen a woman intimidate him before.  
  
"Look, we don't want any trouble, really. I'm just here to get my daughter."  
  
The girl turns to Tara, brow raised.  
  
"This your dad?"  
  
Somehow—in the midst of being struck by eyes too green to be real—she manages to nod.  
  
"Rotten luck. You wanna go with him?"  
  
Blinking, she shakes her head.  
  
"There you go."_  
  
  
***  
  
  
She loses her top somewhere between the door and the dresser, and her bra between the dresser and the bed. She falls onto the mattress, gaze fixed on Willow. On her Willow, her very own special Willow, lust in her eyes and a smirk on that full, kiss-bitten mouth.  
  
Two can play that game.  
  
She reaches out and snags Willow's belt loop; pulling, she wraps herself—arms and legs akimbo—around her lover—her _lover_ —as she rolls, flipping them over.  
  
Willow lays back, an indulgent look on her face.  
  
"Whatever you want."  
  
She opens her mouth and surges forward, lips forcing Willow's mouth open as her tongue delves inside; she pulls away, gasping.  
  
"Everything."  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _"I'm afraid you don't understand."  
  
"No, you don't understand. She wants to stay."  
  
Her father scowls, and for a moment she thinks it'll work, that this wonderful girl will have saved the day and her father will be vanquished and she'll sweep Tara onto a white steed and they'll gallop away...  
  
"It's for your own safety—"  
  
...but no fairytale features someone, some **thing** , like her.  
  
"Safety?"  
  
"My daughter, well...she's a monster."  
  
"A monster?" The girl turns and scans Tara, top to bottom; she can feel the gaze surveying every inch, leaving her feeling strangely exposed.  
  
"A demon, to be exact. It's a curse, runs in the family."  
  
"Huh. Well, isn't that a coincidence."_  
  
  
***  
  
  
Skin. So. much. skin.  
  
She's surrounded by softness—Willow's hands, Willow's calves, Willow's belly, Willow's breasts—huffing out a laugh as fiery tresses trail down her torso, tickling her breasts, her stomach. Her body curls in automatic reaction and a strong arm holds her down. A shiver begins deep in her gut as she realizes how helpless she is, how Willow could do anything she wished and there's nothing she can do about it.  
  
She squirms as moisture pools between her thighs.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _"Coincidence?"  
  
"I just think it's neat that she's a demon... **too**."  
  
Tara's eyes widen as the girl's forehead ripples and she sprouts fangs. Her father shouts, and Beth and Donny trip over one another trying to run away. A voice inside reminds her that she should be running, too, but her feet won't cooperate, and she's transfixed by yellow eyes and too-red lips and the wicked gleam of delight in the girl's gaze as her family scrambles away.  
  
She can't believe it worked, her family has left her alone. It's too bad she's about to become dinner—breakfast?—for a vampire.  
  
A whimper escapes her throat as that golden gaze falls on her.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Huh?" The girl shakes her head, and the wrinkles fall away, leaving the smooth, soft face of a human. Head cocked, the girl steps closer.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Y—You're a vampire."  
  
The girl grins crookedly.  
  
"Beauty and brains, I knew I liked you."  
  
She blinks. Beauty? Brains? What was she...  
  
"Are you going to eat me?"_  
  
  
***  
  
  
Willow's _devouring_ her.  
  
Hips bucking, fingers clenching in the bed sheets, she cries out, over and over, knowing that she'll have to pay a fine for the noise disturbance, but for once not counting pennies and nickels. She feels decadent, imagining the others listening as she rides her girlfriend's tongue, thinking of the jealousy she's felt day in and day out as the others smile and hug and ignore the stuttering queer girl in the corner.  
  
She doesn't need them.  
  
She's got Willow.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _"Eat you? Oh, goddess, no. I...uh, I don't do that anymore." For the first time, the confident facade cracks and the girl ducks her head.  
  
"Oh." It makes as much sense as anything else about this day. Actually, a good bit more than her Biology lecture.  
  
"It's just...we get a bad rap, around here. Not that we shouldn't—vampires you know, grr arrgh—it's just that we're not all like that, well, most of us are, or actually, all of us—with the exception of me—are, and it's a really good idea for you to be afraid, and why are you out after dark, anyways? You could get eaten at this time of night. Oh, and by the way, I'm Willow."  
  
"Tara." She can't help the smile that crosses her face; if she's going to get eaten by a vampire, at least it's a **cute** vampire.  
  
"S—so, you're a vegetarian?"  
  
"Not quite. I still drink blood—biological imperative, there—but I mostly make do with animals, expired blood bags, things like that."  
  
"That's very...commendable."  
  
Willow's face takes on a haunted look.  
  
"Not so much. You see, I've been cursed...with a soul."_  
  
  
***  
  
  
A finger joins Willow's tongue.  
  
Tara feels her walls clamping down on the stretch, the sensation of Willow opening her up, learning her, knowing her. Willow's finger curls, rubbing just. the. right. spot.  
  
Her toes twitch along to the rhythm.  
  
Reaching down, she finds silky strands, following the curve of a skull until she finds Willow's neck, fingers grasping and pulling until Willow crawls up her body, one hand still working diligently between her thighs. Willow's eyes are wide and her hair's a mess; Tara's sure she's never seen anyone else so beautiful.  
  
"I love you." The words slip past her lips without her consent, but she won't regret them.  
  
"I know—" Willow's face softens, "—that's why I'm going to keep you."  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _"A vampire with a soul?" Tara studies Willow's face for signs of a joke.  
  
"Kinda lame, huh?" Willow wrinkles her nose; Tara doesn't think it's cute. At all.  
  
Vampire. Vampire. Vampire.  
  
"I-It's nice." She blushes; so much for maintaining her distance. "Wish I had one."  
  
"A soul?"  
  
"Yeah." She finds herself falling into step with Willow as they begin tracing the sidewalk back to the dorm.  
  
"So, you're really a demon? I thought that was just your dad talking out his ass."  
  
"He does that." She studies the pavement. "But yeah, I am."  
  
"Huh."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They turn the corner just past Marcus Hall and move toward the entrance of Blinn. All the lights are out in the dorm; she's going to have a hell of a time getting them to open the front door for her after curfew._  
  
  
***  
  
  
"What?" She's sure she misheard.  
  
Willow's face morphs, brow wrinkling, golden eyes pinning her, all predator. She blinks, trying to clear the sex haze from her mind, as she reaches down to stop the movement of Willow's fingers.  
  
"Uh uh. None of that." Willow's smile turns wicked as she catches Tara's hand and pins her to the mattress. Another finger joins the first and the thrusts begin to grow stronger.  
  
"Willow, what do you...?" She trails off, not knowing what to ask, not even knowing if she wants to.  
  
"Don't worry, Baby, it'll be over, soon." The ivory fangs of a monster glint at her through the darkness and she begins to fight in earnest, flailing her arms and legs, bucking and twisting with all of her strength; Willow rides her protest with ease and Tara cries out as yet another finger slides into her body.  
  
"But your soul,"  
  
"Yeah, about that," Willow huffs out a breath as she delivers a particularly hard thrust into Tara's pussy, "It's funny. There was a vampire with a soul, but he couldn't take any more matches and he dusted himself with one of them." Tara squirms as the fingers rotate, stretching her walls out even more when another finger is added. "Really inconsiderate of him, wasn't it? I haven't had any fun at all since then. But you? You've been really fun. And it's about to get so much better."  
  
"Just...stop." She wriggles her hips; it was all a lie, and she's lying here in her bed getting fucked by a monster.  
  
She's fallen _in love_ with a monster.  
  
"Oh, and one more thing."  
  
She's sure Willow's whole fist is buried inside of her now. Tears slide across her cheeks; she can feel the cool moisture tickle her ears.  
  
"I don't have a soul," Willow leans forward, cool breath soft against Tara's neck; a parody of the lover's caress she's cherished not ten minutes ago, "but you do."  
  
Shock races through her system as her brain scrambles to catch up.  
  
"Or _did_." Willow bends closer; her lips are cold on Tara's neck.  
  
She closes her eyes.  
  
"Keeping you forever, baby."  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _"It's strange, isn't it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I've got a soul...and you don't."  
  
"Guess fate is funny that way." She sighs, kicking a rock out of her way.  
  
"You know—and I can't believe I'm saying this, so feel free to like, laugh in my face or run away screaming—well, not until we get you back in the dorm—or well, never see me again, but I mean, we could..."  
  
She pauses, turning to face Willow straight-on.  
  
"We could...?"  
  
Willow shakes her head—"Never mind"—and starts walking again.  
  
"No, really. Tell me."  
  
Willow raises her face to Tara's, the moonlight caressing her features and casting her with an unearthly glow—she's sure this is a dream, it has to be—and takes a step closer. There's no warmth to be had, but Tara can feel the pulse of Willow's aura, brushing against her skin.  
  
"We could...share?"  
  
She blinks. She's not reading the situation wrong. She's been rescued from her father by a vampire with a soul who's...flirting?...with her. With her. And she's beautiful and strong and everything Tara isn't, and really, this is like the plot of a bad movie, but she's tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of sitting in her dorm while the others laugh and play and live and love, and it's enough. It's just enough. Her life's taken a turn for the crazy, but at least it's moving forward.  
  
"Sure." Slowly, she raises her head to meet Willow's imploring look head-on.  
  
Hope rises in her chest.  
  
She feels alive.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 _FIN_.  
_

Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.dreamwidth.org/318355.html).


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